


World of Intrigue

by oudeteron



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Foreshadowing, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-10
Updated: 2011-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-22 11:45:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oudeteron/pseuds/oudeteron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The presence of patience does not always mean an absence of boredom, but there are ways to cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	World of Intrigue

**Author's Note:**

> First written as a melting pot of sorts for my pre-MGS3 headcanon, though it has since come down to being one possibility out of many. I arbitrarily set this in 1957: canon-wise, that's three years after the Bikini Atoll test and two years before The Boss leaves, which puts Jack's age at 22 in the fic. (He is known as neither Naked Snake nor Big Boss here yet, for obvious reasons.)

Jack made his way through the crowd, thoroughly unimpressed with this party. It wasn't as if he had to suffer through many of those, considering the secrecy of his occupation, but when a party like this did require his attendance, the odds were firmly against an early retirement. Frowning, he set his glass on the nearest table; the sourness of the wine was making him sick.

Where had Zero gone? Whatever entertainment he had promised Jack was going to find in this silly ordeal was evidently not happening. Worse, the total number of their encounters in the past several hours could be counted on the fingers of one hand, with about three to spare. Oh, there was the open terrace door. Convenient.

The night air helped his mounting headache, although this little breather was hardly a match for the tantalizing vision of getting to leave the premises. What exactly was the point of this—it had been almost an hour since he'd made his last bit of small talk, and ever since then he'd been loitering. And to think he'd had to cut out his training with The Boss just to show up here...

“Bored already?”

Great, now he actually looked startled. Damn this mixture of apathy and alcohol.

“Never,” he quipped, not even bothering to mask his irritation. “What are the odds you came to tell me I can go?”

Zero let out a low chuckle at that. “Jack, we're always dealing with the intricacies of politics, no matter how detached from them you may think yourself. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices.”

“Like wasting our time at a good-for-nothing bash?”

“Yes,” Zero's voice was one of a schoolmaster instructing a particularly dense pupil, “like that. You do look dashing in that suit of yours.”

Jack shook his head. “I'd feel a lot better in my training gear.”

“You'll get back in it soon enough. Now behave.”

 _Sure_ , Jack thought sardonically when Zero plucked his half-finished cigar from his fingers and turned to go back in, his face doubtless an inscrutable mask.

*

Outside didn't prove much of a diversion in the end, hastening Jack's decision to give up and make his own return to the house; once there, he simply leaned against the wall of the antechamber, too annoyed by now to blend in at all. He'd have dozed off like that, hadn't it been for the hand that landed on his shoulder.

“Huh?”

Zero was back and, as it turned out, the only other occupant of the room. “I'm sorry about all of this,” he ventured, brushing Jack's slightly mussed hair from his face with a discreet but affectionate jab.

Jack flashed him a small grin, “If you say so.” It still felt strange for him to address someone who was technically his superior with such familiarity, but Zero had made the line between official and private business very clear from the beginning. He could be surprisingly easy-going with a select few, as Jack had already discovered. And it would have been jarring, to say the least, if they'd held on to rank and protocol during the course of the past few months.

“Success?” he couldn't help asking as he pushed himself off the wall, unmindful of the other's personal space. “Important news in your world of politics?”

The jaded stare Zero gave him spoke for itself.

“Any way this evening could not turn out a complete failure?”

“Now, what are you thinking of?” Zero inquired with the faintest impression of curiosity.

“Upstairs. I heard there was an unused bedroom in the house. Makeshift storage.”

“Utilizing your espionage skills, I see. But do you think it's wise—”

“I've been hovering around bored out of my mind for six hours because you told me to. Not the time to ask me about _wisdom_.” The go-ahead on insubordination had its benefits.

He could tell Zero was hesitating, perhaps considering it; the nervous look he cast towards the main hall to make sure no one was watching suggested as much. Finally, he leaned forward with the prompt, “You lead the way, then.”

 _Knew it_ , Jack thought with more amusement than that pathetic party had provided throughout the evening, but that memory rapidly became obsolete when Zero's arm locked around his shoulders on the stairs, and before long they had stopped to kiss. The first opportunity they'd had in a while, spoiled by the taste of white wine.

And it was always Zero who set the boundaries, as he did in breaking their contact now. “Didn't you promise a room?”

Gliding into the shadows by the wall, Jack tried the doorknob to no avail, then fished out two plain hairpins from his pocket. Though he could get past locks in an instant—knew he would crack this one before he even set to work – the situation was suddenly immensely frustrating. He did his best to concentrate on the task at hand, exhaling harshly when at last the lock gave.

“Impressive.”

“Nothing so special about it,” he waved the compliment off like it was nothing, nothing more than another barrier to be disposed of before the night was allowed to move on. He only needed a small opening to slink into the room beyond; not that there was a point to such stealth if his partner in crime didn't mimic it. Jack had no idea if influence gave Zero these bearings, but sometimes he had to wonder how dangerous it was for men like them to never hide or sneak.

The room was dark and had a dusty air, the kind that would better fit an abandoned library than a bedroom within a house still in use. Amazing how quickly these places went stale.

“Quite classy for storage,” said Zero, a note of withheld appreciation in his voice. Jack shut the door, complete with bracing a low cabinet against it. He'd always been taught to secure the exit.

“Well,” he eyed Zero's silhouette in the dark, “is this private enough for His Majesty?” The shadows made it easy to creep closer, steps soundless on the indistinct floor. Keeping sharp 24/7.

“I have an idea for your future codename,” Zero said mysteriously.

“What's that, more polite conversation?”

Zero grabbed his chin to bring him closer for a kiss, and Jack took that for _no_.

The room didn't offer much in the way of comfort, but there seemed to be a covered desk in the middle that would have to suffice. By the time the invaders had reached it, neither of them had a mind to inspect it more closely. Arms wrapped around his commander's neck, it was all Jack could do force the sheer tedium of the just-passed evening out of his mind for good.

It was actually quite easy for someone who was having such a blast.

The truth was, Jack liked Zero. It might have been that his contact with the common world was minimal, it might have been the shared secrecy of their jobs, but if these were the circumstances that made any of this happen, he'd take the whole package for what it was worth. Even with an age difference that more often than not made things awkward.

The room suddenly felt hotter than it should be, for which Jack blamed the infuriating tuxedo he'd had to cram himself into for tonight. He tried to dispose of his tie with barely half his mind on the task, but to no avail. Dammit, his fingers were never this shaky with knives and guns.

“Let me,” Zero offered, noticing his struggle. To both Jack's relief and irritation, the tie came loose in the other's hands within moments.

“Thanks,” he huffed.

“Not at all,” and Zero had him backed against the table. Smirking, Jack kicked off the floor lightly to push himself up and onto the desk, backing away from the older man in the process. (The desk was sturdy, he noted with satisfaction, even though the tablecloth made the surface slip more than it ought to have done.) Much as he didn't intend to slam the brakes on this encounter, there was some gratification in his ability to wriggle out of tight spots if he chose. One area where he had the upper hand.

All the same, he didn't do it to resist. He leaned forward to pull Zero towards him again as soon as the gap between them had formed, making sure to guide him to stand between his legs. Jack hated acting clingy but the evening had been long; every part of his overdressed body itched for contact and, unlike politicians, he wasn't much good at deception.

Who was he kidding? Deceiving was the last thing he aimed for here, and he was pretty sure that Zero knew that too. _Pretty sure_ grew to _absolutely certain_ when he felt Zero's fingers undoing his trousers even faster than the tie earlier on, and despite Jack's best intentions he yelped like a rookie who'd just been ambushed for the first time at the firm grip that settled on his length, stroking slowly.

*

“Our friend the Major's gone home already?”

“He has? Well, that's a shame. I thought we'd have him start the fireworks show.”

“You need to push a button, for Chrissake. I'm sure even us civilians will manage.”

There was a subdued snort in the background. “Englishmen. They play friendly but I'm telling you, not a funny bone in those people.”

*

The fireworks may have been belated to the hosts when the sky lit up a few minutes later, but the accompanying roar was more than enough to cause a disturbance in the secluded bedroom upstairs.

“What the—”

“You have _got_ to be joking.” Zero's voice lacked its usual composure, but to Jack it still seemed impossibly calm compared to what his own would have sounded like. He bowed his head from the still-flashing lights, trying to get himself under control—and then something caught his eye. What he'd taken for a slippery tablecloth was actually sporting the unmistakable pattern of stars and stripes. And Jack was sitting on it.

“Wait, we can't just—”

“What's wrong now?” Was it only Jack's imagination, or did Zero actually sound impatient?

Jack immediately felt ridiculous, but he had to go on all the same. “Did you even notice—look at this!” He couldn't bring himself to say it out loud; just the knowledge of it was bad enough.

“So, do you suggest we stop?”

“No—I mean...” He did mean no, but hoped he wouldn't have to be the one to call it. Taking a deep breath, he shifted his weight so that he was leaning more perceptibly on Zero than the table, trying to strike a compromise. “Can you just make it quick,” and he rested his face against Zero's shoulder.

It took a second, if that, for his request to be complied with: more contact aimed perfectly where he needed the attention most, and staying. He had no time to wonder if he should do something in exchange; if there was anything he _could_ be sure about, it was the fact that much time wouldn't be needed at all. There wasn't even enough for Jack to feel at a disadvantage, coming undone at Zero's touch so easily.

He'd find something to blame all this on, later.

*

Now the room was just as still as a library, sealed away from the world. _If only_ , Jack mused tiredly sitting on the floor, braced against both the wall behind him and Zero's body on the side. Come to think of it, he didn't remember visiting a library in his life. Finished, they had camped out in the least conspicuous corner of the room and were currently listening to the muffled voices from what seemed to be the entire outer universe. Now that wouldn't have been good to have on their tail.

“What an odd place to keep a flag, though,” Zero's voice interrupted his introspection. “Not that they'll think much better of me now, considering how I disappeared on them.”

“Did you seriously forget to celebrate with all these important people?”

Zero made a vague sound of self-deprecation; anyone's guess whether it was meant genuinely or not. “You've never forgotten a date?”

It was so ridiculous Jack's laughter almost blew their cover. “I don't go on dates. Well,” he glanced sideways briefly, “unless this counts.”

“Why wouldn't it?”

“How should I know? I'm not the one who's good at this...thing.”

Zero's turn to chuckle, but the effect was softened when he wrapped an arm around Jack's shoulders, leaning back against him slightly. “But you're getting better by the hour. Why, you haven't called me Major this entire evening.”

“That's because you always bug me about it. _Jack, no need to stick to protocol right now_ ,” his imitation was more convincing than he'd have thought, “as if you didn't like to see the system works.”

“For someone who claims not to be 'good at this', sometimes your insight is astounding,” Zero sighed. “Yes, I suppose you're exempt from the system. For now.”

The floorboards creaked as Jack rearranged his limbs, cringing at the unnecessary noise—but when he was comfortable again, his expression came closer to a smile. He wouldn't often use phrases like _out of this world_ to think about his circumstances, but right now that seemed by far the best description. He closed his eyes.

Sometimes waiting wasn't all that bad.


End file.
